Skyrim: The Song of Dragons
by TrueUndeadHero
Summary: Witness the bardic tales of Freya Strongbow, a female nord believing to have been cursed by Talos as she attempts to defeat the rising of dragons in her homeland. Accompanied by Yurich the Tall and Lilanni Bantius, she begins her journey to discover a way to defeat the dragons and return the peace to all of Skyrim. Written by TrueUndeadHero and co-authored by Author-of-the-Insane
1. Chapter One: Unbound

CHAPTER ONE

Unbound

The rattle of wagon wheels against broken cobblestone rocked young Freya Strongbow from her less-than-comfortable slumber. Her head was pounding, an ache that seemed to stretch down her back. Vague and blurry memories reminded her of the blunt blow she had suffered before she succumbed to darkness. She groaned, hoping to nurture the blow with the soft touch of her hands. As she went to run her hands over the bruise, her eyes met with the rough bindings of hemp rope securing her wrists before her.

"Hey, you." A voice called from across the wagon, "You're finally awake."

Freya peered through the folds of her thick, dark brown hood towards the man who spoke, and was slightly thrown back by his rough appearance. He was a Nord, that much was certain, though his face was barely visible behind the shriveled blonde locks of his hair. He whipped his head back, revealing deep scars and wrinkles that were etched across his face. He seemed to be looking at her, as if slightly worried, or perhaps sorry for her.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" He asked.

Freya gave a small nod, and the man just shook his head.

"You picked a bad time to try and leave Skyrim." He remarked. "You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there."

Freya looked to the right of the blonde Nord to see a brunette man next to him. The man turned his head towards the blonde, a large black eye and a few cuts on his arms revealing that he too had been forced into this situation like she had. The brunette looked in anger towards the blonde man, his teeth clenched underneath the thick hairs of his stubble.

"Damn you Stormcloaks." He snarled, his hatred for this man evident in his voice "Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could 'a stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell"

He then turned to Freya, his snarl still vibrant and his eyes brimming with hatred for the men who rode in the wagon with him.

"You and me, we shouldn't be here." He loudly whispered, "It's these damned Stormcloaks they want."

The blonde man snorted wryly at the thief's last comment.

"We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

A loud bang came from the driver, who slammed his leathery fist against the rough wood of the carriage. He looked over his shoulder, his face shrouded under the leather helmet he wore.

"Shut up back there!" He shouted.

There was a short silence as they all bowed their heads. The young Freya then looked over, shrugging her hood slightly to see a man in fine clothes. Such clothes were only worn by the Jarls and Thanes of Tamriel. What drew her attention, however, was not the fine clothes or the lush fur cloak draped over his shoulders, but the tight gag over his mouth. Something about him set her on edge as she turned towards the blonde man in confusion.

"Ummm..." she whispered, as if afraid to draw the ire of the group. "Who's that? Why is he gagged?"

The blonde man followed her gaze towards the well-dressed man.

"That's Ulfric Stormcloak," He smirked as he turned towards the man. "The true High King of Skyrim."

Freya's eyes widened in shock, as well as utter fear. Even she had heard of the great Ulfric. He was the man who had murdered the High King with merely his voice. If he was the cause of her own imprisonment, then things were more dire than she had originally believed.

"The Jarl of Windhelm?" The horse thief gasped, "But- if they captured you, then where are they taking us?"

Freya looked around as the tall trees of Skyrim seemed to split apart, revealing the high stone walls of a city the caravan was approaching. A lonely wooden sign read 'Helgen' and the sound of Imperial soldiers chanting filled the air. The large wooden gates were pulled open by more Imperial soldiers, allowing the wagons to continue their trek.

"General Tullius, sir!" A voice called to the man leading. "The headsman is waiting upon your orders!"

Shimmering in the clouded sun, Tullius rode into Helgen wearing polished golden armor that glistened in the sunlight. His short white hair was neatly styled and he gave off an air of power with every step of his horse. He rode off to the side towards a group of High Elves on horseback.

"Good," He sneered, "Let's get this over with."

The horse thief clasped his hands tightly together, praying to any of the Divine who may have been listening. Ulfric also bowed his head, not in prayer, but in resignation. The blonde man merely looked ahead, then his eyes caught sight of the High elves, and his expression turned sour.

"Look at him," The blonde murmured, "General Tullius and the Thalmor. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

He looked back, watching the decrepit stone houses creak pass the slow wagon train. As they continued their journey, men and women began to take their children into the houses. The blonde began to sniff the air and his eyes became distant.

"I used to be sweet on a girl from here." He said, his once confident demeanor becoming more saddened. "I wonder if Vilod is stilling making mead with juniper berries."

The wagons entered a large courtyard, where a few other wagons sat quietly, loaded with similarly dressed men and woman. All of them wore tattered chainmail covered with rags of leather and cloth, thickly-bound fur boots, and leather gloves. The blonde sighed as he looked towards the rotted wood of the wagon floor.

"Funny." He whispered, "When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

The wagons groaned to a stop, the soft neigh of the horses became still, and the air became thick. The horse thief looked panicked as he saw them off loading the other carts that lay waiting in the courtyard. Freya began to finally look around her and began to worry herself.

"Why are we stopping?" She asked nervously.

The blonde stood up in front of her and gave her a saddened glance as he turned towards the Imperial guards at the end of the wagon. She became pale, not wanting to hear the answer, but still needing to know.

"Why do you think?" He whispered. "End of the line."

Freya's heart sank and she felt something inside of her die. Her life had never been easy, and frankly, she hadn't been too surprised to wake up in a prison wagon. She just never would have imagined that her luck would have turned out THIS bad. The Divines must have truly hated her.

The blonde man walked forth as she stood up. Then a man caught her attention from the first carts. A thick, well-muscled man with the sides of his head high and tight which formed into a long braid that ran down his back. He bore a long beard, which was tied with a worn string near the end and knotted. Around his neck was an well-worn Amulet of Talos, most likely the reason he was part of this caravan. He looked at the Imperial guards, then stood up and began to walk towards the end. The carriage shuddered, groaned, and then rose up as the man stepped onto the ground.

"You!" A female voice called, "The Nord in the hood."

Freya snapped out of her trance and turned her head towards the voice. A man wearing simple leather armor with red velvet trims stood with a list of names, and beside him in steel Imperial Armor was an Imperial captain. She crossed her arms and looked at Freya with a snarl.

"Step forward."

Freya weakly stood up and walked towards the end of her own wagon. Stepping off gently so as not to fall, she turned to the man with the list. She bowed her head, trying to hide her face in the cloth of her cloak. The man looked at his list, his expression puzzled.

"Who are you?" He asked, flipping through the pages.

"Freya." she whispered. "Freya Strongbow… A Nord"

The Imperial holding the list then turned to the captain. He whispered into her ear, the captain nodding in time. Freya could barely make out what they were saying, but she could guess that it was about her. For a moment, she dared to hope that everything would be cleared up when her name didn't appear on the list, but those hopes were dashed when the captain just shook her head.

"Forget the list." She said, "She goes to the block."

The Imperial nodded sadly before turning his attention back to Freya.

"By your orders, Captain." He murmured, "I'm sorry Nord. Maybe the Divines will show more mercy than we have."

He pressed his hand deep into her back and pushed her towards the crowd as Freya's spirits faded once more. She was gonna die. She would just have to accept it. She went and stood next to the large man who loomed over her petite frame. His face showed an annoyed expression, looking down at his hands which were bound twice compared to the rest of the men.

General Tullius approached the square, the soldiers all beating their chest as the crowds of civilians murmured in secret. He raised his hand and the square became silent until only the wind could be heard around them. The tall man then perked his ears, as if hearing something in the distance.

"Ulfric Stormcloak!" He shouted for all to hear. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero."

The citizens booed, throwing fruits and vegetables into the square as their voices echoed in the wind. The tall man's attention was drawn elsewhere as he looked over his shoulder.

"But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!" He exclaimed, the citizens booing once more. "You started this war, plunging Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down! And restore the Peace!"

The citizens cheered, and a distant howl echoed through the valley. A few men looked confused, unsure of the noise. Even Freya looked up from her daze, the sound sending a chill up her spine.

"Ignore it!" Called the captain, "Give them their rites"

A priestess wearing bright orange robes nodded, raising her arms up. Her eyes closed as she began the prayers.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessing of the Eight Divines upon you for you are-"

Suddenly, the tall man next to Freya lurched forward. Like a statue coming to life, he growled and shouted into the crowd.

"It's the Nine! Damn it!" His voice bellowed, "You can't just say Talos isn't real! You can't kill a Divine!"

The Stormcloaks nodded and shouted as well, the group angrily throwing swears and insults at the priestess. Freya, however, just pulled her hood down farther over her head, trying to disappear into the dark fabric.

"Enough!" Called the captain as the men's cries began dying down. "Begin with the execution!"

She grabbed one Stormcloak, shoving him towards the block. He stumbled before the executioner grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and forced him to his knees. The executioner looked down as the captain nodded. He raised his axe and it came down with a sickening crunch.

"Next!" Called the captain, pointing through the crowd at Freya. "You, the girl in the hood."

Freya gave a resigned sigh, stepping towards the block. She didn't even bother crying, pleading, or praying. She simply approached the block, falling to her knees.

"Remove the hood." The captain ordered.

A howl rocked the valley once more as the executioner went to pull the hood away. Freya closed her eyes, awaiting the fall of her hood and the axe. The world shuttered as another deafening roar rocked the sky. Through the mass of clouds that blocked out the sun, a terrifying creature, one believed to be extinct for generations, soared through the sky before landing on an old stone tower.

"Dragon!" An Imperial soldier screamed

The dragon bellowed into the heavens as the clouds swirled around it, becoming black as night. Screams rushed through the valley as lightning struck innocent people, turning them to dust. The guards stumbled and the executioner ran, his axe clattering against the stone streets. Freya stared up at the beast, terror rooting her onto the chopping block.

" _Zu'u lost daal._ " The dragon shouted.

While everyone around her heard only the strange tongue of the dragon, the meaning of the beast's words were perfectly clear to Freya.

" _I have returned…_ "

The dragon's dark red eyes looked at her, as if staring through her very being and piercing her soul. His clawed wings dug deep into the stonework of the old tower as he leaned closer. His gaping maw came down to devour her.

"You stay away from her, ya big ugly lizard!"

Freya turned to see the tall man shouting as his arms twisted. With one swift pull, the binding ropes tore apart, freeing his hands. Throwing his arms back, he ran towards her, scooping her up seconds before the dragon could devour her.

The dragon howled in anger at the loss of its prey and breathed fire towards the two. The tall man dove and slid to the safety of a second tower. The blonde man from the cart slammed the doors behind them, bracing himself against the wood. He felt the scorching heat from behind him as the two stumbled to the ground, Freya rolling out of her savior's grip.

"Ulfric!" The blonde said, turning to the Jarl sitting on a stool in the corner. "Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric snarled as he looked up to the blonde man.

"Legends don't burn down villages Ralof." He said calmly.

The tower shook, the brickwork cracking. Ralof looked up, covering his head as boards and dust caved into the tower. He turned towards the tall man.

"Yurich, we need to move!" He shouted as the tall man nodded. "Quickly, up the tower!"

Freya, who was still in shock from her abrupt rescue, was quickly picked up by Yurich, the tall man who had saved her.

"Pup," Yurich said, "I need you to hold on tight. We're leaving this town before we burn with it."

He grabbed her by her bindings, tugging them over his head and around his neck. She dangled from his back like a loose cloak, her legs wrapping around his stomach for some measure of security. She looked over Yurich's shoulder, still slightly surprised that he had saved her. She didn't know what to say, so she took a chance.

"Freya." she muttered.

Yurich looked back at her in slight confusion.

"My name is Freya." she said again, slightly braver this time.

Yurich nodded and turned to follow Ralof, who began to climb up the tower via the old stone staircase. They were nearing the top of the stairs when the wall was suddenly burst open by the dragon's scaly maw. Yurich stopped short and threw his arms over his face, forcing Freya into the wall to protect her as much as he could.

Yurich watched as Ralof was consumed by the flames, his body vanished beneath the wall of white-hot fire before becoming merely a shadow on the opposing wall. Freya looked over Yurich's shoulder in horror at the site as the dragon roared, pulling its head free from the tower and flying away once more.

"By the Nine." she gasped.

Yurich walked towards the large hole in the side, then back towards the blackened outline where Ralof once stood. The tower groaned and swayed, shifting as its foundation began to slowly give way. They couldn't stay here much longer, not if they wanted to live. He slowly turned back to the hole left by the dragon. Below, he saw the local inn. Its roof had caught fire and had collapsed, creating in his mind the perfect place to land from a well-timed jump.

"What are you thinking?" She asked quietly, as if sensing what he was planning.

Yurich only smiled as he turned to her.

"Trust me pup, I'll protect you." He said, stepping back. "And may the Nine Protect us."

Freya looked at her savior with confusion, but tightened her legs around him in anticipation of his next move. Yurich then raised his amulet to his lips, kissing the worn iron it was made of. He then dropped it onto his chest and leaned forward in an animalistic stance. With a suddenly burst of speed, he made for the edge and kicked off.

"By the Ni~ne!" Freya screamed as they flew through the air.

Yurich covered his face and bent his knees as they made contact with the remains of inn roof. The two fell into the top floor, rolling passed strewn about beds and empty side tables. Yurich rolled and Freya was pressed between the rough floor and the heavy man she was forced to cling to. Yurich stood up, pulling Freya up with him. They were both covered in thatch and splinters, which Yurich brushed off as he looked out a surviving top floor window.

Down in the street, he could see the Imperial who had held the list. He stood with another man, both of them armed and attempting to call a small child. The child seemed scared, his head looking all around.

"Hamming!" The Imperial shouted, "Get over here! The dragon may-"

The warning turned to a summoning, for at that moment the dragon landed hard in front of the group. The ground erupted in a cloud of dust and dirt as the beast stared right at the child. Yurich's eyes widened

"No," He whispered.

He ran past the collapsed stairway and jumped through a bit of broken floor, landing on the ground floor of the inn. Running towards the door, he slammed his shoulder hard through the wood. It broke off its hinges as he exited the inn.

"Hamming!" The Imperial screamed.

The dragon let out a scream of its own and a stream of fire engulfed not only Hamming, but the Imperial and his companion as well. There was nowhere to hide, and Yurich could only watch as the three were overtaken by its flames. Freya then saw the dragon, its scaly lips seemingly forming a cruel smile. Its red eyes glowing as it seemed to speak.

" _Arrogant mortals,_ " It taunted as it flapped its wings and lifted off the ground. " _Your pride will be humbled_."

Yurich looked in terror at the three charred bodies, never before having felt so truly afraid. He was pulled from this crippling fear by a barely audible whimper coming from Freya, who was still clinging to his back. He regained himself, steeling his resolve and began running once more. Down the old cobbled street, he turned down an alleyway. Breaking through the doors of the charred remains of a lonely house, Yurich entered the front gates of the town.

Archers shot into the sky as the dragon circled overhead. Its voice causing more storm clouds to appear, lightning striking the earth and scorching it. He could hear many of the soldiers screaming in agony, as well as the holy men and women praying for mercy. He ran underneath a collapsed wall and through burning palisades towards a large keep. Sweat was dripping from his brow as he heard screams all around him. He thrusted his arms forward and threw the doors of the old keep open, running into the darkness.

With no time to lose, Yurich pulled Freya's bound wrists free from his thick throat, tossing her onto one of the beds in the keep before running back to the doors. He slammed them shut, barring them, and then leaned against them in utter relief.

Freya looked at Yurich, panting heavily as she did her best to brush away the ash and thatch that still covered her. Yurich's eyes began to adjust to the darkness as he approached the bed she sat on. He rummaged around in the chest in front of the bed until he found a small dagger.

"Let me see your hands."

Freya held out her hands as Yurich gripped the rope. He pulled it tight and placed the edge of the blade hard against the threads before sawing through them. The rope broke and her hands separated, her bindings falling away to reveal the red rings around her wrists. She rubbed them, trying to regain lost circulation as she stared in amazement.

"Thanks." she said after a moment

Yurich began to rub similar red marks around his neck as he took a look around. The barracks weren't ransacked like the rest of the town. Beds were freshly messed up and the old trunks sat quietly at their feet. Yurich walked over to one, looming over it as he gripped the top of it. Lifting the lid, he looked inside. Digging through the chest's contents, he tossed out armor and pants before he saw the rough outline of a rusted iron key. He grabbed it and turned to Freya.

"Follow me," He said calmly, "I have known these tunnels since I was a mere pup like you."

He stood back up and walked towards the hallway. Freya sat there for a minute, unsure of whether to follow, or to try and find her own way out. After a minute, she scrambled off the bed and began to chase Yurich. She wasn't sure why he had helped her, but frankly, she liked having someone who had her back.

The old rotted stonework of the keep was covered in thick moss, the sound of the rampaging battle outside could be heard even through these walls. Yurich reached over, grabbing a torch from one of the sconces on the wall. The light offered little as he reached a large iron barred wall. He looked at the key, raising an eyebrow as they approached.

"What's wrong?" Freya asked.

"I don't know," He said, his nostrils flared, "But I don't think we're alone."

He reached for the iron door, and forced the key inside. It turned and the lock tumbled open with a loud click. The door opened and Yurich held his hand out behind him. Freya stopped and Yurich walked forward.

"Die Imperial Bastards!" A cry came as a war axe swung at him.

Yurich's hand shot out and grabbed the handle of the axe, surprising the Stormcloak. The other had her hands raised with sword, only to be surprised by Yurich's size. Standing over a foot taller than any of them, he turned to the free Stormcloak with a gaze of fire. She dropped her weapon and backed away slowly as Yurich wrenched the axe from his attackers grip. He then slammed his forehead against the forehead of his attacker. The Stormcloak's eye rolled back and he stumbled before falling to the ground as Yurich turned to the other.

"Your shield." He said calmly, "I need it."

Freya watched this scuffle in surprise, then spotted another Stormcloak hiding in a small tunnel. Yurich was distracted by the shield-bearing stormcloak, and didn't seem to hear the other one approaching. Thinking fast, Freya grabbed the fallen sword, turning around and charging at the stormcloak in his hiding spot.

She raised her sword over her head and swung down. The charging stormcloak drew his own blade and blocked the blow. Freya raised the sword once again and sideswiped. The Stormcloak attempted to block once more, only to be scratched by the edge of the blade as it swept across his chest. He stumbled back as Freya lifted the blade again with both hands, plunging the tip through his stomach. Blood erupted from his mouth as death claimed him.

Freya stared down at the fallen stormcloak, breathing heavily as she freed the sword from the dead man's chest. She looked over at Yurich, who grabbed the shield from the stormcloak before bashing it into her skull, causing her to begin stumbling to the ground. Yurich then walked over to the large iron bars that made the doorway into a sloping hallway that seemed to sink even deeper into the Earth. He pulled out the key from his satchel, and pressed it into the lock. With a quick turn, the tumblers spun into a click. The door lurched open as the whole hallway shook violently from another roar of the dragon.

"That dragon must be really tearing up the place." Yurich said as they were coated in the dust falling from the ceiling. "We can't stay in one place too long. If we do, we could be caught in a cave-in."

Freya gave a nervous nod, following Yurich as they made their way deeper and deeper into the caverns. Up ahead, they could hear voices, and from their arrogant tone, they had to be Imperials. Yurich looked to her, an air of warmth surrounding him.

"Come on, pup." He said calmly, "Nords have no fears that can't be conquered."

Freya nodded in agreement to Yurich's little speech as she tightened her grip on her sword. The big guy also smiled, happy to see her finally express some emotion that wasn't fear. The room shook once more, reminding them of the direness of their situation.

They continued down into the sloping hallway, the air became thicker as the space became tighter. They approached a narrow passage, when the whole tunnel shook hard. Yurich looked up, and then grabbed Freya by her waist.

"Hold Pup!" He cried, pulling her back.

The roared echoed as the beams buckled then snapped, bringing the entire ceiling crashing down before them. The tunnel filled with dust and smoke before coming to a calm. Yurich surveyed the damage as Freya coughed and hacked, trying to rid her lungs of the dust.

"Too close," she whispered.

Yurich stood her up, the tunnel now blocked from going further down. Yurich swore under his breath, before noticing the old rot-iron door leading to the storage area. He placed his hand against it, then his ear.

"Pup," He whispered, "I think we may have company. Prepare your steel."

Freya nodded, lifting her sword as Yurich slowly pushed the door open. Suddenly, a well struck blade sunk deep into his wrist from a downward slash. Blood erupted from the wound as Freya jumped back.

"Die Stormcloaks!" A voice called, "For the Emperor! For Cyrodiil!"

Yurich's free hand grabbed the blade and ripped it free of his wrist as Freya ran into the room. She saw the first one as his blade was wrenched from Yurich. Suddenly, a second blade of an Imperial Officer surprised her. It's sharpened edge striking her on her back, ripping through her clothing and skin. The wound ripped open and Freya screamed in agony, drawing Yurich's attention away from his own Imperial.

"Pup!" Yurich cried, his voice dripping with fear.

His eyes slowly flooded with red as his mind filled with anger. He wanted them to suffer, to feel pain as his face began to elongate. His shield slamming into the Imperial as his grip tightened around the axe handle. His kindness faded as the blade sunk deep into the back of the Imperial's skull. Blood erupted from the Imperial's mouth as Yurich's shield-hand grabbed his enemy's throat, digging his nails deep into his skin and pulling his throat free from his neck as Yurich turned back to Freya.

"Oww..." she hissed, blood pouring from her back. "By the Nine, that's gonna leave a scar."

The Imperial Officer fighting her went to bring his sword down upon her, but she rolled out of the way from the blow. She yelped in pain as her wound touched the rough stones of the ground, then quickly got to her feet. Pushing the pain to the back of her mind, Freya gripped her sword tighter and charged forward. The ringing of steel echoed through the chamber as swords clashed, but even wounded, Freya was not going down easily.

Using her small stature to her advantage, Freya darted behind the Officer and plunged her sword deep into his back, killing him instantly. She then promptly collapsed in pain. Yurich's eyes widened as he ran over to her, passing over her kill to grab her. He looked around, and noticed a few barrels with their lids opened and rushed over, reaching inside of one.

His hands became filled with the white powder, raising it to his nose to discover it was salt. He checked another barrel and pulled out a few vials of red and blue liquid. A smile crept across his face as he ran back to her side.

"Freya," He said, as she faded back into consciousness. "Drink this, you will feel better."

He placed the vial against Freya's lips and tipped the bottle back. As she drank the strange liquid, an unusual warmth passed through her body. She could feel the skin of her back slowly pulling itself together, the healing process significantly aided. With a few more swigs, she was in top physical condition. Even the bruises from her capture were gone.

"Wow," she muttered. "That's… quite the cure."

Yurich smiled taking the rest of the bottle in one swift chug as his bleeding wrist closed.

"It's a good potion to have in tight scrapes." He said, "Can you move?"

Freya rolled her shoulders experimentally, then twisted her entire upper body. She had full mobility and felt better then she had in weeks.

"Yeah." she replied. "I'm okay. You?"

Yurich stood up, the wound on his wrist now invisible but the scar was still there.

"The battle was good," He said, "But we still have to leave here alive, pup."

Yurich approached the next door. As his hand reached to grab it, the door burst towards him. It broke from its hinges as a form flew onto the hard stone floor, it was a Stormcloak, sent flying backwards into the room by a surge of lightning planting itself into his chest. Freya stumbled back, her expression wide in shock. Being a wandering Nord, she knew very little magic, and the spells she knew were nowhere near as powerful as what she was seeing.

"Blasted Stormcloaks!" A hissing voice cried, "May your Divines punish you!"

Freya turned towards the voice as Yurich prepared his axe. The door opened again and revealed the Imperial Torturer and his assistant battling twin stormcloaks. Freya was slightly torn as to whom she should attack. The Imperials had tried to kill her, but the Stormcloaks weren't exactly the good guys either. Luckily, Yurich quickly provided the solution to the problem.

"I hate this bloody war!" He shouted, holding his sword. "Die ya bastards!"

Yurich's shield raised up as the Executioner turned to him, his hands raised up to cast a spell. Lightning danced on his fingers as Yurich's shield slammed into the Torturer's stomach, forcing him back into iron bars that protected a ransacked armory. Two strong hands grabbed Yurich's shoulders as the Assistant thew Yurich against the opposing wall. Suddenly, a Stormcloak charged and knocked the Assistant off his feet.

"Freya!" Yurich called, "Find ya beast! Hunt!"

Freya barely understood what Yurich had said, but gripped her sword. Letting out a wild call as she ran forward, charging towards the Stormcloak and the Assistant. She raised her sword, swinging it down onto the Stormcloak's back, nearly slicing him in two. He fell, pinning the assistant to the ground. On instinct, Freya twisted her blade, swinging sideways until she severed the assistant's head from his shoulders.

The Torturer turned to Freya, his arms wrapped in bolts of lightning as a smirk curled from underneath the tarnished leather hood. He raised his hand towards her, snickering as he prepared his spell. Freya could only turn to watch in horror as the bolts of lightning danced across his skin. Yurich stood up and dashed towards her.

The lightning bolt struck the passing Yurich, wrapping around him like an electric net. The lightning burned his skin as he dropped to his knees.

"Yurich!" Freya screamed as she watched in horror.

Yurich's face contorted and growled as he stood up and charged the man. His shield hit the Torturer's stomach, both stumbled back as he hit the cage once more. He raised the axe and cut through the Torturer's shoulder before tearing into his chest, crimson red flowed from his mouth as he looked up at Yurich. His forehead came down with a vengeance against the Torturer's nose bridge. His nose erupted in blood and the Torturer's head dropped forward. Yurich pulled his axe free, and the now dead corpse slowly lowered to the stone floor before it became a heap.

"Yurich, are you okay?" Freya called, slowly approaching him.

Yurich's face began to return to normal, as he sheathed the axe into his sash around his waist.

"We need to keep moving," He said in reply.

Looking passed the three rusted iron cages, Yurich leaned himself against the barred off room in pain. Shaking a bit, he pushed himself back up and cough.

"There is an exit soon." He continued as he approached the tunnel, "Hopefully we'll be seeing the light of day before long."

The two walked passed the cages, where bodies laid huddled in pain. Freya could only look away with a sad tear.

"This is horrible" Freya whimpered, "Why did they do this? There had to have been a better way."

They reached the end where more cages hung from the ceiling with corpses inside. Yurich shook his head as he passed by. Grabbing his Talos amulet, he kissed it once more before whispering something under his breath. A voice suddenly broke his concentration.

"We can't stay here," A clearly Nordic voice said, "Not with the Dragon about!"

A loud slap echoed through the cave as a female voice spoke.

"We have our orders," The voice spoke, "We stay here until Ulfric comes."

Yurich looked towards Freya and swore under his breath.

"By Talos' Grace," He murmured, "More of the blasted folk. Why can't they just leave this hellish place and go home?"

"Yurich, what do we do?"

Yurich looked at Freya and his gaze hardened. He needed to protect her now. He had already made it this far and they were nearly free of these Nine accursed caves. Focusing on the enemy before him, he felt the cold, light wind that filled the cavern. Off in the distance, he could hear the sound of water dripping, nearly drowned out by Stormcloak chainmail rattling in his ears.

By now, his whole body hurt and he couldn't tell how Freya felt. She could not have been much better since her face was dirtied by blood and ash. He sighed, adjusting his grip on his axe handle.

"Just a few more steps." he told himself.

He took a deep breath.

"Follow my lead." He whispered, picking up a stone from the floor. "I have an idea."

He threw the stone down near his feet, the loud echo bellowed in the cave as a few of the Stormcloaks turned on the short stonebridges where they stood.

"Go check it out!" The female commander shouted.

Two began to approach, their footsteps getting louder and louder. Yurich steeled himself, and then charged around the corner. His huge form rushed, pushing one of the swordsmen off the edge and into the shallow water below. Yurich then turned, grabbing the second Stormcloak by his neck and throwing him towards the entrance he had left. The body flew over the carved stone bridge before hitting the wall with a hard thud. The Stormcloak collapsed onto the ground, not getting back up, but revealing a bow and a quiver full of arrows on his back.

Yurich turned to the remaining men as Freya noticed a final one hidden behind some rocks. Thinking fast, she made a grab for the fallen Stormcloak's weapon. She took the longbow and threw the quiver over her shoulder, already notching an arrow in preparation. She began to move from the cover of the doorway, walking towards the ornate bridge that spanned the cave. She lifted the bow up, her right eye closed as she cocked the arrow. Pulling back the bowstring, she whispered.

"Nine guide my arrow."

Taking a deep breath, she released the arrow, sending it flying over the underground lake. The unsuspecting Stormcloak went in for a surprise attack, only to scream out as the iron tipped arrow ripped through his skull. Blood began to spill from his eyes and mouth as he stumbled sideways and collapsed next to the wall. Yurich paused and turned to Freya, watching her elegant hand reach into the quiver for another arrow.

The second archer turned to Freya, her face angered as she attempted to notch an arrow as well. Freya closed her eye once more and aimed.

"Oh no, you don't!"

She released the arrow, but the enemy archer sidestepped and smiled as she drew her bowstring. Freya's eyes widened as the stormcloak focused on her.

"Now I got you, filthy-"

A thick iron handaxe suddenly flew passed the Stormcloak, narrowing missing her head. She stumbled back before turning to Yurich. She was literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Panicked, she quickly trying to regain her footing. Once she succeeded, she began to ran.

"Not this time." Freya murmured.

Freya drew back the bowstring as she notched the arrow, her hand suddenly wrapped in the essence of fire as she ignited the arrow tip. She smiled confidently, closing her right eye for the third time. Her hand released and the scorching arrow flew. As if guided by the Nine, it struck the Stormcloak square in the back.

The Stormcloak screamed before falling onto the ground. The oil-soaked stone burst into flames as she writhed in pain, surrounded by red hot flames that only grew with every frantic movement. Yurich could only watch as the form slowly stopped moving and the flames died down. He turned to Freya as she ran across the bridges.

"I'm not very good with swords," She said with an unusual aura of confidence, "but I'm okay when it comes to bows."

Yurich nodded before continuing through. The clear-cut cavern slowly began to turn into a larger cave system. Water ran through a small creek and the walls felt like wet clay. A few Imperials and Stormcloak bodies laid about as Yurich walked ahead. The dark caverns offered little hope for light, but Yurich was prepared with his torch.

Soon, the cool breeze of winter winds began to fill the cave and the torch's light began to frantically waver. Yurich smiled as he began to step ahead. Suddenly, the sound of hissing was heard all around. Freya looked above her, her eyes widening at the massive spiders crawling across the ceiling. She was about to scream when Yurich covered her mouth, motioning his finger to his lips.

The two continued to move, managing to avoid any conflict with the oversized arachnids, as the wind growing ever stronger. Soon the thick darkness gave way to a sliver of light. Yurich and Freya smiled as they approached, and for the first time in what felt like an very long time, they reached the outdoors and the felt the strong winds of the cold.


	2. Chapter Two: Before the Storm

CHAPTER TWO

Before the Storm

As Freya and Yurich finally emerged from the caverns, light flooded their eyes as the world opened before them. A sweeping snow covered mountain slope, coated with frost tipped trees and white bark. The stony outcroppings were a fresh sight from the darkness of the caves. Freya smiled, smelling the fresh air and the looming scent of wildflowers.

"Freedom." she whispered. "I thought I'd never know such joy again."

Yurich was not as joyous, his ears perked up as he stood behind her. He turned to look up the stretching mountain that still reached towards the sky. Then his eyes widened as he lunged at Freya.

"Get down!" He said, grabbing the scruff of her neck and covering the back of his head with his free hand.

Freya yelped in surprise, a sound which was quickly silenced by Yurich's muscled hand. It was then the earth shook as a huge shadow covered the landscape. A roar echoed like before as the massive black dragon flapped its wings, soaring into the distance before disappearing over the ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow. Yurich looked at Freya, her hand covered her nose as crimson was now running down from it.

Both of them were covered in blood, ash, and dirt. Yurich's armor was torn, covered in deep slashes and cuts that revealed scars underneath his clothing. Freya's clothes were perhaps even worse off. They were badly torn, charred from various fires, and she had lost the clasp to her hood. She clutched onto said hood as she stood up, looking up at Yurich as he dusted himself off. He looked down the mountain slope with a cautious eye, then back at Freya.

"We are near Riverwood." Yurich said coldly, "It will be nearly half a day, but we can make it."

"We?" she asked, her voice betraying her disbelief.

"Yes." He said bluntly, "Ain't gonna let my pup venture off anywhere till we're in safer walls."

Freya was completely stunned. For a moment, she just stood there with this distant look in her eye. Then, her face broke out into a big smile. Yurich began to descend down the mountain with Freya following close behind. They had a long way to go.

…

The sun was high in the sky, a more perfect blue could not be captured. Yurich walked down the path, young Freya now on his back moaning in pain. Her wounds from the caverns had reopened, forcing Yurich to carry her or risk his new companion bleeding out. They approached the large gates of Riverwood, a small logging village on the edge of the White River. Its stone walls untouched by battle, however there was a strange, and unnerving, calm.

The streets were empty, and yet the forges still burned and the racks still stood. Carts seemed to be sitting around as if just dropped for no reason, and the lumber mill was still running with no hands in sight.

"Where is everyone?" she muttered, pain lacing her words.

Yurich looked around before gently dropping her onto her feet.

"Let's check the Sleeping Giant," He said, looking over at the old inn, "That's the last stop our caravan made before the ambush. Maybe they'll remember me."

"Are you sure you want them to?" Freya questioned, "I mean, you were nearly executed."

Yurich didn't answer her. Instead, he began walking towards the inn, reaching the stairwell of the Sleeping Giant. He approached the doors before forcing them open. The inn, which held voices loud enough to be heard outside, became eerily quiet as they entered. They located an empty table and took a seat as the crowd continued arguing.

All around, groups of men were in a state of panic. They spoke of the end of days, shouting and bickering ensuing from just about every corner. Money changed hands frequently and the whole room smelt of stale beer and overcooked food. At the bar, Orgnar stood silently, cleaning filthy glasses and tankards as if the spectacle was a normal occurrence. Standing upon a table, a priest shouted down at the crowd in a feeble attempt to calm everyone down.

Freya looked around, completely and utterly confused by what was going on. She turned to Yurich, desperately hoping for answers.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Why is everyone acting like this? I know a dragon appeared, but is this not a bit much?"

Yurich merely grabbed the nearest tankard, wrapping his hand around it strongly. He tipped it to his lips before slowly drinking it. He sighed, then turned to her.

"It's the end of the world." It was all he could say, there was no calmer way to state it. "And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled… Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadows unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world."

He sighed before placing his face in his hands, clearly saddened by the realization. Freya's eyes widened at the notion of the end of days, shrinking into her cloak. That's when a freckled hand came out of nowhere, slapping Yurich upside the head and sending his face right into his drink.

"You git."

Freya looked up at who had just spoken, coming face to face with a red-haired woman. She looked down at Yurich in disappointment before turning to Freya.

"Don't let this mutt get you all mopey with his end-of-the-world spiel." she told her.

Yurich looked up at her, rubbing the back of his head and wiping mead from his beard.

"The Elder Scrolls have spoken of this event, Delphine." He spoke coldly, "They have forsaken us with their prophecy."

Delphine whacked him again, shaking her head.

"But you're forgetting the other half of the legend."

Freya perked up at those words.

"The other half?" she asked, almost hesitantly.

Delphine gave a small smile as she nodded.

"And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled! Alduin, Bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world." She paused, clearing her throat then continued. "But a day, shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies, will be silenced forever and then. Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw, Dovahkiin be the Savior of Men!"

Freya smiled a bit, before looking back at Yurich. Appreciating the happy ending, she wasn't sure of the truth behind it but it made her somehow feel safer. However, she turned to Yurich with another question that bothered her.

"What's a Drovva...Dovviss...?"

She blushed, utterly embarrassed with herself. Yurich looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"A Dovahkiin?" He asked, curious if that's what she meant.

Freya gave a tiny nod, once again trying to disappear into her cloak. Yurich could only smile, placing his muscled hand on her head and ruffling it playfully. Delphine walked away to help with the bar as Yurich smiled at Freya.

"It's a Dragonborn, a child of Nirn who has been blessed with the soul and succor of the ancient dragons and the might of a mortal. They can speak the lost tongue of the Dov, the lost Thu'ums with ease."

"Thu'ums? Like The Voice the Imperials have? Like Ulfric Stormcloak?"

Freya thought back to cart ride, the tales that were exchanged. The arrival to Helgen, and the power of the dragon she had witness. Then suddenly, the words of Tullius echoed through her mind.

"Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne!"

Yurich only looked at the bottom of his tankard, ignoring the cries and panic of the inn. He placed his head back into his hands. Freya nervously reached over and began to rub his back, smiling nervous. In the back of her mind all she could think of is Ulfric, and the possibility that he was in fact the Dovahkiin.

Suddenly, the doors to the inn burst open and a woman wearing a green dress and leather apron entered. On her hip was a lumber axe, and her hair was tied back up. She breathed heavily, as Yurich stood up and looked at her. She panted, pushing away from the door. Her legs shook as she stumbled.

"Gerdur…" He said, running to her side and grabbing her. "What happened?"

"A- A dragon!" she gasped. "I saw a Dragon!"

She panted, her hand pressed against her chest as she attempted to regain her breath. Yurich lead her to his former seat and helped her down. She glanced at him and nodded her thanks. The tavern patrons looked at her, each with dread in their eyes as their worst fears had been confirmed.

"I ran as fast as the winds from my mill." She said in between breaths, "The dragon flew overhead, it's voice shaking the very world as it passed."

The priest held up his hand and the patrons turned to him.

"Enough!" He spoke, "We must believe that the Divines will hear our prayers and guide us to a better tomorrow. We cannot be so worried, we live in an age of Heroes and-"

Gerdur suddenly stood up and looked at the priest, her eyes filled with a curious mixture of fear and hatred.

"You Imperial Braggart!" She called, "You tell us to calm down. I saw the dragon, and it was headed to Whiterun!"

"Whiterun?" Freya repeated. "That's not far from here."

She turned to Yurich desperately, his hulking form standing before she could even say another word. He turned to Gerdur.

"That's less than a day's walk from here." He turned to Freya, who looked at him expectantly, "We have to warn them, or if'n we get there too late, help them."

"What didja know of dragons, Yuri?" Asked Embry, his tone slurred with beer. "You'd never fought one."

"We saw it firsthand." Freya replied defensively, surprising herself with the boldness of her words. "The thing nearly killed us and burned Helgen to the ground."

The bar became murmurs, with people holding their tongues and their heads bowing down to their tankards. Yurich walked towards the door, waving for Freya to follow. Opening the tavern doors with nothing left to say, Freya stood up and clutched her hood and followed weakly.

They reached the gates before Yurich looked down at Freya, bent over in pain. Her wounds weren't as severe as his, but he had training to ignore his pain and suffering but Freya was a young girl, and though life on the road had made her tough, never had she sustained injuries of this magnitude. He sighed, as he kneeled down. Freya looked at him again, before nodding as she climbed onto his back.

"I'm sorry." She murmured as she laid her head against his.

"No worries pup." He said, "T'is not worth thinking of."

…

As the hours passed by, Yurich continued his trek, Freya now asleep on his back. He passed an abandoned stables, the horses bucked around clearly frightened by something. The banners of Whiterun waved solemnly without a soul on her walls. The towers had lights warning and wavering in the plains' light winds.

The rock path had a few possessions on the ground, some buckles and some sharpening stones. Yurich looked around, his eyes narrowed as if expecting something. He reached the drawbridge when he was startled by a voice on the high walls.

"Halt!" He screamed, Yurich stopped and looked up to them, "No visitors with the dragon about!"

"So you are aware of the dragon," Yurich replied, "How many dead are within your walls?"

The guard looked confused, before turning to the tower. He seemed to nod, as if being told something just of Yurich's line of sight. The guard then returned his attention to Yurich.

"We have no dead, just the frightened." He shouted, "What business do you have here?"

"I am Yurich The Tall." He claimed, "I am returning to my people's halls from a long journey. Lo' kinsman, my mission though is to warn the Jarl of Helgen!"

"Of Helgen?" The guard chirped, before turning back to the tower. He returned his attention again. "What of Helgen, Great Yurich."

"T'is gone." Yurich replied, "By the dragon's maw and breath, not a soul breaths within her walls."

The guard seemed a bit taken back, before he ran back into the tower. There was a period of silence as Freya looked at Yurich confused, but before she could speak the guard returned.

"Marric!" He called, "Open the gates! The Harbinger returns!"

Freya, who had just awoken due to this entire exchange, had her attention drawn to rumbling of the gate of Whiterun.

"Are we there?" she mumbled sleepily. "Is this Whiterun?"

"Aye pup." He spoke, "We are here to speak with the Jarl, Balgruuf the Greater."

As he began to enter the city, the sight was much like that of Riverwood. The town was empty without a soul on the streets, as if abandoned from the mere sight of the dragon.

"It's just like Riverwood." Freya whispered. "Everyone's hiding."

Suddenly, three figures exit the guard tower. Clearly guards from their helms and uniforms, they walk over to Yurich as a Dunmer woman with blackened eyes with red, cinder like pupils and fiery red hair followed them as they approached.

"Harbinger Yurich." She said calmly, her own helmet under her arm. "We had heard you had left for Cyrodiil. Had we had known you were still in Skyrim, we would have found you sooner. The Jarl demands your advice in these times."

Freya's head suddenly appeared on Yurich's shoulder, her face a mask of confusion.

"Yurich?" she asked. "What's a Harbinger?"

The Dunmer woman seemed thrown by the sudden appearance of the girl clinging to Yurich's back. She cleared her throat, before returning her attention to Yurich.

"Your attendance is needed."

Yurich nodded, and followed her. Freya, slightly miffed about being ignored, tugged gently on Yurich's braid.

"Not now, pup." He whispered, "But soon."

As the guards walked through the town, the people began to emerge. Their eyes to the sky as they left their sheltered homes and shops. Yurich walked up the stairs, passed the mangled mess of a large dead tree. They walked passed a large hall, where a red haired woman with green face paint seemed to watch Freya and Yurich carefully before standing up and returning inside.

Yurich began walking up the large staircase, before coming to a massive keep. The guards still marching in tune after the Dunmer woman, before reaching the doors. The guards gripped onto the thick rowan-wood handles before pulling it open to the large interior of the keep.

The ceiling was vast, higher than anything that they'd ever seen. Fog and smoke filled the high tipped roof, where iron-ring chandeliers hung low with candles that flickered. Upon entering, Yurich with Freya, passed by the rowan wood archways that stood on both sides. Their tops holding intricate carvings of Nordic symbols before reaching a staircase. It creaked under their weight, as they climbed once more.

A massive fire pit sat in front of them, made within the foundation of the building. Twin tables sat on either side, where a feast was in preparation. Foods from many exotic and local lands were served fresh on fine plates and silvers. Nobles crowded the tables, their voices ones of panic and fear. The Dunmer woman stood at the top of the stair and sighed.

Placing two fingers in her mouth, she blew forcefully. A screeching whistle echoed through the noise of the crowd, silencing the room in an instant before she stepped out of the way.

"The Harbinger has returned." The Dunmer woman proclaimed, "And he has news of the dragon."

That word continued to plague Freya's curiosity but she refrained from asking again, positive that Yurich would explain in time. Yurich shrugged his shoulders pulling Freya from her thoughts. She released him and dropped onto the floor, where she was quickly surrounded by guards.

Yurich approached the Jarl, walking passed the nobles. They bowed their heads, some even offering wine and drink to Yurich as he passed but they all received a calming wave before he approached the stairway to the throne. Balgruuf sat at attention, one hand on his armrest and the other stroking his thick blonde beard as he looked down at Yurich. The stern look upon his face unrendered by his approach.

"Hail Yurich, Harbinger of the Companions." He spoke deep, his voice bellowing through the now silent hall. "What brings you this deep into Dragonsreach?"

"I am here with word of Helgen." Yurich began, clearing his throat as the eyes of the court stared down at him. "It is dead."

The entire hall was filled with a chorus of gasps and hushed whispers laced with fear and horror. Balgruuf raised a hand, silencing them all.

"What happened in Helgen?" Balgruuf asked, his hand ceasing the strokes as it sat on the opposing arm. "Do no leave out any details."

Yurich looked around the court and it became was clear that, even without his timely arrival, word of Helgen's destruction had already reached the ears and lips of the nobles. He returned his attention to the Jarl.

"Dragons." He said calmly.

Once more, gasps of horror filled the hall. Accompanying these were outcries of disbelief from even the Jarl, as the nobles looked to him hoping for some relief in his stern exterior.

"Dragons, you say" He spoke, the emotion nearly gone from his statement. "If this is true, then how did you survive? I do not doubt your strength or courage, but t'is truth you speak, then you shouldn't be standing here with naught but a few minor wounds."

"T'is truth!" Freya exclaimed, the whole room turning to her, "Had we not escaped from the caves beneath Helgen's Keep, we would have been slaughtered like the many others there."

Balgruuf's brow furrowed as he glanced at the hooded woman, not having seen her before she spoke. He motioned Yurich aside with a wave of his hand, and Yurich stepped aside. A large guardsman placed his hand hard against Freya's back and pushed her forward to the stairs, she stumbled to her knees as if bowing before him. He looked down upon her.

"Speak child." Balgruuf spoke

Freya took a deep breath, more nervous than before. Her sight set to her feet as she had suddenly lost her voice. She glanced at the room, the nobles looking at her with begging eyes and worried whispers but then she caught a glance at Yurich. He stood tall, nodding to her. She nodded in return and faced the Jarl as she stood up.

"An Imperial ambush captured both Yurich and I at the border of Cyrodiil and Skyrim. They took us to Helgen to be executed, with Ulfric Stormcloak." She paused, as she tried to regain herself once more. "Then it came. Like night itself, a black dragon swooped down with breath of fire and eyes of coals. It shook the Earth and sky with its voice and tore the clouds apart. Then it spoke to me."

Jarl Balgruuf looked in surprise as he leaned closer, now more interested in the story than he ever was before.

"It said-" She stuttered, clenching her hands together in fear, "It said, Zu'u lost daal. I have returned."

In the corner of the room, near a staircase leading up. A black hooded man seemed to perk up, his hood shuffling as his hands delve into his robes. Freya paused as she saw this. He then pulled away a journal and rushed to the Jarl's side, whispering into his ear. At first the Jarl seemed annoyed by his presence, but his heart soon changed.

"That is interesting, Farengar." Balgruuf spoke, with a loud yet hushed tone. "We will discuss more later."

Freya didn't want to wait till later. She spoke up and looked towards the black robed mage as he began to leave.

"Wait." She called.

The mage stopped and looked at her from the shade of his hood.

"You know something, don't you?" She asked, "About the dragons, and what is happening?"

The nobles turned to the mage, and their eyes narrowed in suspicion. The room's air filled with this culmination of hatred and fear as Farengar looked at her, his face beginning to slowly glisten with sweat.

"Please," He murmured, "Do not mind me."

Freya raised a hand.

"You know something, if not why the dragon has come, then perhaps a way to stop it." She insisted. "Please if you know anything-"

"Enough!" Jarl Balgruuf shouted, his fist slamming onto his throne. "Farengar is my mage, and he has been studying the dragons for years! He has no knowledge of summonings, and he has never left my side. Cease your fears at once!"

He looked around the room as the nobles began to disperse, clearly not wanted under the Jarl's wrath. After a few moments, many had left the palace as Jarl Balgruuf leaned back into his chair. His hand massaged his forehead as he sighed deeply. Farengar returned to the Jarl's side as he began to pass notes. The Jarl and he exchanged glances as Yurich and Freya walked forward.

"Did I…" Freya whispered, "Did I cause any troubles?"

The Jarl looked at her and sighed.

"No, no you did not." He replied, "The courts are merely nervous. With the dragon about, everyone's on edge. But this is not something I can speak of."

He turned to the mage, handing him back all of his notes and papers.

"Farengar, take them to your lab." The Jarl ordered, "Explain to them our dilemma, perhaps they can understand its dire straits better than I can."

Farengar nodded and motioned to the Yurich and Freya, and proceeded down the stairs to a small side room. As they walked, Freya spoke up again.

"Sorry." she said softly. "I didn't mean to turn the nobles against you."

Farengar laughed slightly as he entered the room.

"T'is no troubles," He said, as he entered the cramped space. "I am always viewed with hatred in the court, if not for being a mage then for being a nuisance. It is no worries."

Yurich followed with Freya as they entered the mage's chambers. Inside, a large map of the country was placed on a wooden backboard with small markers and drawings in numerous locations. Words written in runic symbols could be seen across the illustrated lakes and mountain tops with question marks and other bizarre symbols.

Bowls of alchemic ingredients such as soul gems, roots, and plants sat next to a glowing green alchemist table and a mage stand. In the far corner, sat a globe with various moons and gyros around it. Farengar walked to his desk, and began to move around numerous scattered papers and journals. Books about dragons, cults, lore, and legends sat all across the desk and across the floor.

"I apologize for the mess" Farengar said softly, "I never expected guests, so I have not had time to prepare."

He continued to look through much of the mess, as if looking for something. Freya could merely look in awe at the surrounding area, as Yurich crossed his arms and locked his vision onto the mage.

"Wow." Freya commented. "It looks like you've put a lot of work into your research."

"About this research, Farengar." Yurich chimed in, "What exactly do you require assistance in?"

Farengar paused as he looked at the two, his face still hidden under the hood but there was still the signs of embarrassment as he as placed the papers in his hands aside.

"Well." He began, straightening up as he placed one hand to his mouth and his other around himself. "I am afraid that the Jarl may have… exaggerated my progress."

"What do you mean 'exaggerated', Farengar?" Freya asked nervously.

Yurich rose an eyebrow in suspicion as Farengar walked towards the map, looking at the runic text before looking at one in particular.

"It appears that- Ummm..." He paused, "-that the Jarl thinks that I know what is the cause of these dragon attacks. But he is gravely mistaken. I have spent my life studying the old dragons, that much is true, but these ones that I have heard about are nothing like what I have prepared for. All except one."

"One?" Yurich said nervously, "Which one?"

Farengar reached through the clutter on his desk, before pulling out an old journal with the same runic text on the cover. It was an ancient leather book that showed its age through cracked leather and withering bindings. The pages were yellow and flaking, requiring only the gentlest of touched to disintegrate them. However, the book remained in one piece as the mage flipped through it.

Freya squinted at the cover, and the two rows of words etched into the leather. The first row were runes that stood out plainly to Freya. It read "Tales of Winter". She unfortunately could read no further as the lower half were common words her illiterate mind could not comprehend.

"What's that?" Freya asked, pointing at the cover.

Farengar perked up and looked at the front of the journal.

"This?" He asked as he pointed at the text, "This is ancient Dov, the word of the dragons. I am merely looking for a passage.

He flipped through the pages before stopping at a page and turning it to Freya. He held it open to a single page with a drawing, a painting from long ago. It was old art, of a large black dragon with ghastly red eyes and breathing fire at what appeared to be a moon on top of a mountain top. There were three figures around him. One with a great sword, one with fire in its hands and one with a round object, probably a shield. Farengar looked at Freya with a serious expression

"This dragon is the only one I know of that sounds familiar." He said, holding the book to Freya. "Does this remind you of what you saw at Helgen?"

Freya's eyes widened at the illustration. It was indeed the dragon from Helgen. Though it was a mere drawing, she could almost feel the beast's gaze boring into her.

"That's him..." she stuttered. "That's the dragon that destroyed Helgen."

Farengar, taken aback by her comment, attempting to hide the apparent fear in his eyes as he read through the pages. He wiped his brow, turning his attention back to the book.

"Just as I had feared." he said softly, he looked to Freya. "What you saw was Alduin, The World Eater."

Freya gasped. Immediately, she thought back to what the villagers back in Riverwood had said. They had spoken of Alduin, as well as the end of days. If the dragon they had seen back in Helgen truly was Alduin, then their fears were more founded then she had wanted to believe.

"However, we may be in luck." Farengar spoke, as he flipped through the pages. "Long ago, the first Nords to fight him succeeded. These men created the Thu'um, the power of the Voice. Hakon One-Eye, Gormlaith Golden-Hilt, and Felldir the Old used this power to destroy Alduin and end his reign. However, this is a bizarre turn of events if he still exists."

"What do you mean?" Freya asked. "How can the original Dovahkiin have destroyed him, and then he reappears now?"

"That is what the Jarl wants answers for." Farengar sighed, "However, I have yet to translate that far. I have read every book within his library on these events, but I cannot seem to understand what it means. I am close though, I understand that it involves the Throat of the World."

Farengar sighed, as he rubbed his own forehead. Angered and frustrated. He looked at Freya and Yurich before leaning forward at his desk.

"Give me a few days, at most." He said softly, "I am close. But I need time to translate the text, then I can tell you what I need."

Before Freya could speak, Yurich nodded once before grabbing her shoulder. She stumbled back as Yurich began pulling the young Nord out of the palace, unable to break his strength.

"Yurich, that hurts. Let me go."

Yurich remained unresponsive, pulling her through the doors of Dragonsreach and across the moat. This continued down the stone staircase, his grip tightening around her shoulder with each step. By now, Freya was starting to get slightly irritated, pulling futilely at Yurich's grip. Unfortunately, she was only succeeding in hurting herself.

"Ow!" she cried. "Yurich, stop!"

They reached the city square when Freya finally wrenched her arm free, facing Yurich. What she didn't realize was that in her struggle, her hood had fallen from her head and now rested around her shoulders.

"Will you stop?!" she shouted. "Stop dragging me around like a child! I can walk on my own!"

Yurich turned towards Freya, prepared to grab her again. However, he paused as he gazed upon his companion. Throughout their travels, she had been extremely cautious about keeping her hood on. Even when she was asleep on his back, it had never fallen. Now he understood why.

Freya's hair was a fair length, just brushing her shoulders with a small braid to the side, and it was white. Not grey, or silver, or even a light blonde. It was as white as snow, or perhaps even whiter. It shined in the sparse sunlight, dancing in the wind.

The surprises only grew from there. Freya's eyes were equally white, reflecting like mirrors back at him. The sight caused him to stare at his tiny companion, which drew her curiosity.

"What are you staring at?" she demanded.

That's when it dawned on her. She went deathly pale, shaky hand slowly reaching up to touch her head. When she felt the strands of her hair, her white eyes widened in shock and utter fear. She grasped her cloak, yanking it back over her head and over her face.

"You're-" He stuttered, a bit taken aback by what he had seen. "By the Nine."

"I'm sorry." she cried. "Please don't hurt me."

"You're Talos Blessed." He said calmly.

Freya shook her head, tears pouring out from underneath her hood.

"I was cursed the moment I was born." she whispered. "It's why I have no one. It's why I was chased out of my village. It's why I came to Skyrim. It's why-"

She broke down, falling to her knees.

"It's why I'm alone. The Divines hate me."

Yurich looked down at her, and wrapped a strong arm around her. His hulking form embraced her as he kneeled down beside her and laughed a bit. Freya hiccupped slightly, looking up at him through the fabric of her hood.

"Many people don't like Talos anymore." He said softly, "They claim because he was once a man, he is not a God. But he is what men strive to be, remembered. Whether or not he became a god is not what matters, what matters is that he left his mark."

Yurich tapped her forehead, watching as the flow of tears began to slow ebb away.

"Talos only blesses those who do great things," He said softly, "And if he blessed you, then by the Eight, Nine, Ten, Twenty, Whatever! He has given you a purpose."

Yurich smiled, then slowly stood.

"Which is why I brought you to Jorrvaskr." He explained as he pulled Freya to her feet, "To make you strong enough to succeed in that purpose, pup. Now come along!"

Freya wiped her eyes, then followed behind Yurich. She had never thought of her curse the way Yurich had. If it was true, then perhaps she was meant for more than just wandering around Tamriel, scared of the world and how they would treat her.

They began to walk up the carefully carved stairs to the large building. Unlike the tall, shingled rooftops of Whiterun, Jorrvaskr's roof was rounded like the bottom of a great ship. Its walls were a wooden brown and covered in thick thatch and pitch work which lacked any real color, unlike many other buildings in Whiterun. It had no windows, and its iron bound doors were coated in a deep rust with cuts in the wood that seemed both aged and new. Yurich smiled as he looked down at Freya, and placed his hand on the door.

"Welcome to Jorr-" His introduction was quickly interrupted.

"That is MY sweetroll!" A voice called, "Now yer asking for it!"

Suddenly, a figure at the large dining table grabbed a silver platter covered in rare meats and sausages. He up ended it, spilling the delicacies into the fire which the table surrounded and raised the platter over his head. The black-skinned Dunmer holding a large sweetroll in his hand looked over to the orange haired nord before his full face was bashed in by the platter.

The roll fell from the Dunmer's hand and rolled onto the table as the Nord tossed the platter at the door like a throwing disk. Freya ducked as the platter hit the wall, sticking to it as its edge pierced the fine woodwork. The two began to brawl, rolling into the open area beside the tables. Their fists beat into each other as other members got up.

"Ha! Get 'em" One shouted.

"Give'm a good showing!" Screamed another,

And soon the fight was in full swing as Freya and Yurich entered. The room's air was filled with the smell of burning wood chips and fine meats. Her stomach growled as Freya looked upon the table drooling.

"Go ahead," Yurich said, motioning to the table, "Take what you want. You are a guest here in Jorrvaskr."

Freya walked towards the array of food, her eyes locking onto the sweetroll that was the prize of the brawl. Having never truly tasted such delicacies, she decided to see what the fuss was about. She walked around the rounding tables and gripped the roll. The spongy texture was a surprise to her as it oozed cream and cinnamon. She brought it to her mouth and took a large bite out of it.

"Wow, this is good." She exclaimed,

The room suddenly went still as a strange silence filled the room. She looked over to the fight which had ended in a still image. The Dunmer had a fist forced into his cheek, his eyes blackened and his chest bruised while the Nord's fair skin was now a bright red. Bit of his hair were gripped in the Dunmer's hands, some still attached to his head while others were pulled free. The rest of the crowd just stared at her, as Freya's face became pale.

"I messed up again didn't I?" She thought to herself. "Not good."

"Now she has the right idea!" A black haired Nord called.

He pointed at her and began clapping as the others began to smile.

"Ya see what happens when ya fight." Said one of the female members, "You lose out on what's really important. You're pride."

The spectators of the fight began to disperse as a black-haired female Redguard patted Freya on the back while the tall Blonde female Nord looked down at her.

"You're smart, kid. Taking advantage of those two like that." Freya was confused, with bits of Sweetroll hanging from her mouth. "No, eat. Go on, you earned it."

"Umm, thanks?"

Deciding to forgo her confusion in exchange for feeding her hunger, Freya returned her attention to her sweetroll.

As the group cheered Freya, the black-haired man approached Yurich. His eyes coated in a thick black makeup with a thick beard. He wore wolf armor, which clanked as he walked up the stairs.

"So who's the pup?" he asked, getting straight to the point. "Not like you to bring home strays."

"Her name is Freya, Freya Strongbow." Yurich said, "You would like her Farkas. She has a lot of hidden potential, like myself when I first came here all those years ago."

"Potential or not, Aela's gonna tear her, and you to shreds when she sees her." Farkas said, a bizarre combination of mockery and seriousness in his voice.

Yurich smiled, he knew that Aela would smell his arrival. She would be there soon, but he would let Freya enjoy herself while she good. Divines knew she needed it.

Then, the sound of a door being slammed shook the hall. The march of heavy footsteps on wooden stairs could be heard as the members began to move away from Freya, and Farkas away from Yurich.

"Yurich!" a female voice screamed.

Freya turned her attention to the opposing side of the hall, where she noticed the railing to a staircase going down below the grand hall. Walking from it came a fiery red-haired Nord. Her face covered in stripes of green face paint.

Her body was curvaceous, large chested with thick muscles across her frame. She wore a thick fur armor with chainmail sleeves that only reached her elbows and a low cut v around her neck which was held together with leather straps, leather trousers and wolf-skin boots covered her legs and a sash with an iron sigil of an axe wrapped around her waist, which rattled as she approached Freya.

With one arm, she gripped firmly onto Freya's robes and lifted her high into the air. Her arm was huge compared to Freya's small form, and the woman's eyes were bright red with flashes of fury. Her teeth were elongated like an animals.

"Who in Oblivion do you think you are, you wretch." She said softly, "And I expect an answer smart enough not to make me kill you here and now."

Freya looked at the woman who was holding her up like she weighed nothing. She tried to think of something to say, but all of her answers caught in her throat.

"Aela, my love" Yurich approached, but Aela's head snapped her attention to him. "Please, place the pup back on her feet before you-"

"Shut up, Yurich!" she snapped. "You told me you would be gone for two months. Two! Months! And then I catch your scent after only four days and find you gallivanting through town with this whelp on your back!"

"Aela, please." He began, "I was merely bringing her here due to her injuries. She has been unable to walk more than an hour on her own without me."

Aela squinted slightly, then turned back to Freya. She brought the girl close to her face, taking a deep whiff through the nose. Sure enough, the girl reeked of blood, soot, and ash. At least partially satisfied, she dropped Freya back into her seat.

"That may explain the whelp, but that doesn't explain why you're back so early." Aela countered. "How do you explain that?"

"I was supposed to be gone for two months," Yurich continued, "But our caravan t'was nothing more than a Stormcloak army ready to pounce on the Imperial City. I became trapped in an ambush, yet I do not know how she became part of our capture."

He motioned to Freya, who was still shaking after being dropped. She slowly got to her feet, edging away from the terrifying woman and closer to Yurich.

"But we were brought to Helgen to be executed. She was to be beheaded first, but then the Dragon arrived and freed us both and destroyed Helgen."

The room became still at the word of dragons, many turned to Yurich and Freya in surprise as he stopped explaining. However, Aela turned to them with her reddening eyes and the room returned to what they were doing.

"So the rumors be true." she whispered. "The dragons have returned. How did you survive?"

Yurich looked over at Freya, who was slowly beginning to regain her senses.

"I helped her." Yurich said, "The dragon attacked Helgen, but it seemed like it was after her. She looked so helpless, like a pup. So I helped her, and I took her to the Keep. We fought through Stormcloaks and Imperials alike and side by side like we had done it forever."

Yurich's voice began to sound a bit emotional as the companions began to speak with Freya, patting her on the back as she entered their embrace. She was uncomfortable at first, but much to Yurich's pleasure, was slowly beginning to open up to them.

Aela watched this, then pulled Yurich aside, out of earshot of the rest of them.

"There's more to this story that you're not telling me." she hissed. "Why did you really bring her here? Did you have another dream, my love?"

Yurich's eyes looked a bit fearful, not scared but worried as he stared at Freya. He turned to Aela and faced away from Freya as he wrapped his arm around Aela.

"Yes." he replied.

Aela sat him down, holding his hands lovingly.

"Tell me what you saw, my love."

Yurich looked at her, and sighed.

"I saw a world surrounded by darkness. All men and women were the same, small black wolves in this darkness. Then a fire raged and grew as wings unfurled in the night. A dragon, much larger than the dogs themselves, appeared and began to kill the wolves until none stood up to it." He looked back to Freya, then returned to Aela's attention. "Then came a white wolf pup, weak, starving and ignored by the rest. It- she came to me with begging eyes and I held her, nurtured her back to health until she grew into a great wolf."

Aela looked at Yurich a bit surprised, then turned again towards Freya. Freya was smiling as she looked at the companions, talking to them and sharing food with them like they had known each other their entire lives.

"The Great White Wolf strode across the darkness and climbed upon the dragon, and gripped it by its neck." He stopped, "The White Wolf killed the Dragons, Aela."

Aela's eyes widened, unable to belief what Yurich was saying.

"Are you saying that- Do you honestly-?"

"I do, Aela." He looked back at Freya and smiled. "I think she may be Dovahkiin."


End file.
